


Connections

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: ATCU, Beard of Sorrow, Best Friends, Complicated Relationships, Daisy Johnson is the only Marvel Superhero, Daisy is very busy, Eating, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Living my S3 Hiatus best life, Minor Angst, Phil beating himself up, Plot Twists, Speculation, Trust Issues, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, mentions of mack, robin hooding, vigilante Daisy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 09:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6899710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post S3 finale Skoulson fic with speculation and tooth-aching fluff and romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Connections

“Wow. This looks like it could be a real life-changer.”

He stares at the two packs of donuts in his hands. One powdered, one chocolate, and suddenly his life flashes before his eyes.

 She gets tired of waiting, things moving too slowly for her now, and pulls the chocolate one out of his hand, reaching over his shoulder.

This, too, is representative of a kind of paralysis he's struggled with for the last six months.  Trying to sort it all out.  What went wrong.

“Both,” she says, reaching for the other. “Get both.”

He wants to ask: Why now? After she left him trails of breadcrumbs, only to keep just out of reach. Could she even give an answer?

Mack had told him to stop looking. That she'd find them when she was ready.

Mack was right.

He turns and follows her to the counter, as she pays cash. With stolen money.  HYDRA money, granted, but the press doesn't know that, or dig deep enough these days.

Her hair, the redhead wig, rather, almost looks too contrived and he wonders if she's enjoying this. While he's been living out of hotel rooms, frustrated. Trying to see what it is she wants him to see.

All he's wanted to see is _her_. And here she is in the flesh.

“Are you just flirting with this or are you going to do it?” she asks, brashly grabbing the edge of his jaw and the stubble on it, as he fights wanting to reflexively pull away.

Instead she steps back and jerks her head at the door while she pockets his donuts in her jacket. “C'mon.”

He was on his way back to his apartment. A rarity, because he’s in DC for a meeting with the Director.

“I live nearby,” he offers, taking out his keys to the rental. “I don't know if you're aware of my former association with the vigilante Quake?”

“I know where you live,” she answers dryly. Still, grinning while rolling her eyes.

Of course she does.

 

#

She seems reluctant to come in, like she's making some kind of strategic call.

“I'm not bugged, if that's what you're worried about.”

“What?” she says, suddenly shaken out of her thoughts. “No. It's not that.”

She’s staring through the open door, and steps over his duffel bag tossed haphazardly by the door, looking over the room.

Mack's seen it a dozen times, even May. He suddenly feels self-conscious, like he wants to make it tidier.

“Guess you’re trying on something new, too,” she slowly nods.  
  
“No,” he replies, piling up some files, tension creeping into his voice. “I've been trying to keep up with _you_.”

She looks troubled at that, only for a moment, and then she frowns.

“I _need_ this time-“

“I'm sorry,” he apologizes immediately. “I know.”

She breathes out when he stops at that and watches him move towards the fridge.

“Beer?” he offers, opening up the cavernous appliance.

Oh. Okay. There's just the one. 

“That's alright,” she waves a hand at him.

‘We can share it?” He shrugs, and looks apologetic, trying not to panic.  He just doesn't want her to leave. Even though she should. He's such a fuck up.  
  
“Okay.” Her soft answer and smile come before she sits down on the couch, and lets her eyes continue wandering. “Nice place.”  
  
Where is she living these days if she thinks this is-  
  
“Not much of a home,” he admits, suddenly sentimental about the Playground.  
  
“Yeah, I get that. Me too.”  
  
She reaches out her hand after he pops off the beer top and then eases down beside her.  
  
“How's the leg?”  
  
“Fine,” he replies, sliding down deeper into the seat.  
  
She gives him a dubious look.  
  
“Hurts when the temperature swings,” he adds, turning to look at her. There. Just start with that little bit of honesty.  
  
“Mack still check up on you?”  
  
“Yes. He's my partner now,” he says possessively. He wonders with a touch of jealousy if she's seen him already.  
  
“Good,” she tells him, taking another sip. “I'm glad you look after each other.”  
  
“Who looks after you?”  
  
She raises an eyebrow and hands the bottle to him.  
  
“At the moment? Just me.  Sometimes, I see my dad.  As you know.”  
  
His chest aches a little at the thought and he takes a long drink to distract himself, when there's a buzzing noise inside her pocket.

She pulls out the burn phone and mutters to herself, reading over the text.

“I'm sorry, she tells him,” standing.

“Can I see you again?”

He doesn’t care if he sounds like a fool at this point, he thinks, taking a step towards her and squeezing the bottle.

“Yeah,” she smiles, like it’s somehow surprised her.

“When?” he continues, following her to the door.

“I'll let you find me this time,” she says, with her hands in her pockets, swinging around to face him again.

She takes his hand with the bottle in it and holds it, drinking the last of it.

“Thanks for sharing your beer, Phil.”  She tosses a packet of chocolate donuts at him.

He wants to say something more, but he just catches them, holds the door open as she walks away.

“Daisy.”  

It comes out too late, into the empty hallway.

 

#

This time he does find her. She's left him another trail of crumbs.  
  
He's mostly pretending to hunt her, truth be told.  What he’s really been doing is collecting a file on her work and evidence to exonerate her later if this ever catches up with her.  
  
This time she does run, but he also knows he has to help her if he wants to peel himself off from his team in the crowded open air market.

When she runs for the abandoned building, he follows after her and manages to get up three flights of stairs by himself before an arm yanks him forward, and he feels the floor tremble beneath him as they fall through it, back the way he came.  
  
It's controlled, the air moving like a cushion around them, like he saw her do with Roz.  Only, she holds him close to her, wrapping them both in it.  
  
She yanks his hand when their feet touch the first floor and heads out the back towards the open air market again, as he hears shouts from above.

Trying to lose them in the crowd.  
  
“Your guys are good.  You’re a _great_ hostage.”  
  
“Thanks,” he grunts, as she pulls him back into a stall, and yanks off her blond wig and shakes out her hair.  
  
She slips the flimsy dress up over her head and he turns away too slowly to see she's wearing shorts and a tank underneath.   
  
“Borrow those?” she asks, stealing his favorite glasses, turning him to tug his jacket down, while putting a hat hanging nearby on him.  
  
“This wasn't what I had in mind when I asked to see you agai-“ he starts, as she spins him back around.  
  
He's silenced by her mouth on his, pulling him in tightly against her.  
  
It shocks him, in every possible way. And like an electrical current, he can't let go. Instead he holds on, tighter, feeling the hat tipping back further on his head, precariously, like this giddy rush of excitement.  
  
She lets him go taking a breath and moves him aside to peek out and along the row as his men continue down the line of stalls.  
  
It was a distraction.  Naturally.  He’s just trying not to blush.  
  
“I'll need some intel,” she says to him.  
  
“On what?” he asks, irritated. She's playing him. This is 101 stuff. He's trying to not feel insulted.  
  
She slips him a piece of paper, pats him on the shoulder. “For this. No time.”  
  
Leaning forward, she kisses him again, this time on the cheek.  
  
“See you soon, huh?”  
  
He touches his hand to his face as she goes, then and opens up the piece of paper in his hand.  
  
It's a list of names. His brain picks a few out. One senator. A high ranking military officer. 

Then he sees the code name.  For the organization they’ve been tailing, trafficking Inhumans.

“Huh,” he breathes out, as his men rush up to him.

“She’s gone,” he tells them.

So is he, he thinks, as he tunes out the chatter in his coms.

 

#

She turns up unexpectedly, of course. After he's fallen asleep on the couch.  
  
Shutting his laptop and moving the small pizza box off his lap, she sits down on the edge of the couch beside him.  
  
“What time is it?” he says sleepily, reaching for his watch on the coffee table.  
  
“Ten thirty,” she says fondly, handing it to him.  
  
He rubs his faced embarrassed, by him drifting off, by the state of him.  
  
“You shaved.” Her fingers touch his face as he makes a quiet hum. “I was getting used to it,” she sighs, sounding hopeless, giving him some room as he sits up.  
  
“Thanks for getting those guys. For your help.”  
  
It feels good, knowing they did this together.  It’s all he’s ever wanted to do. “Gladly. I have something for you in exchange.”  
  
“What?” she asks excitedly, planting her hands in her lap.  
  
But first, he groans, getting up off the couch, and gets self-conscious in his wrinkled t-shirt and slacks.  
  
He goes to the kitchen and opens up the fridge, bending down and walking stiffly back towards her.  
  
She takes the flower from him, a daisy, a little wilted, and laughs.  
  
“Is this because I kissed you?” she asks, it like it’s all a bit ridiculous.  Maybe it is.  
  
“No,” he smirks. “Because I _liked_ it.”  She holds his eyes for a moment, wide-eyed and curious. “But somehow, I think you'll like this more.”  
  
He hands her the file in his other hand, which she takes slowly, puts it on her lap, flips it open.  
  
“Their bank accounts, lockbox locations. Asset information,” he says, giving her the short version.  
  
Her mouth is open wide as she looks up in surprise, like she might cry.  
  
“Have at 'em.”  
  
“Phil,” she tells him, putting the flower and the file down on the coffee table. “Come here.”  
  
He gives her a shy smile, and slips down off the arm where he's sitting, to the spot next to her on the cushion.  
  
“I thought you'd tell me to stop,” she says, like none of it makes sense. “Or that I've gone too far.”  
  
“It's not going to win you friends in law enforcement, I can promise you that,” he answers dryly.  
  
“You lost your position.  Because of me.  Everything you worked for-“  
  
“Because I couldn't compromise that way. Staying on the inside, as an Agent? I, _we_ , thought we could help.”  
  
“You have already.”  
  
He feels like this is his moment to decide. “I should've told you. Found a way.”  
  
“I think I’ve seen it. I mean, look at that _wall_.”  She’s teasing him, and it's true.  The images and articles of her plastered on the board in view. He can’t help but accept he’s ridiculous after all.  
  
“I just wanted to put the pieces together. Make sense of it. Why _you_?”

“Why _us_.  Why we're trapped in these patterns.”  
  
He considers this. “We are kind of back where we started.”  
  
“Yeah. _Kind of_.“  
  
She's not wearing an elaborate disguise this time.  It's just her. He can’t help how much it makes him _want_.   
  
“If you met me then,” she asks boldly. “Knowing what you do now-“  
  
He doesn’t even let her finish. “The answer is yes. _Always_.”  
  
“I can't be SHIELD,” she says, sadly.  “Not when they’re rounding up Inhumans and selling them off as weapons or parts.”  
  
“Then don't be.”  
  
She sits with that for a moment, reaching forward and wrapping her fingers around his. The prosthetic one, leaning her head against his shoulder.  
  
“This is nice.  I’ve missed you, too.”  
  
“You can stay here,” he tells her, talking low between them. “Whenever you need. No questions asked.”  
  
“And what about you? If you're caught?”

“Then you can come and rescue me,” he replies, as a smile spreads mischievously across his face.

She laughs a little. “Don't get caught on purpose, though,” she warns him.  
  
He smiles wider, squeezing her fingers in his.   
  
“I'll do my best.”

 

#

He does get caught.  
  
It was a setup, and he walked right into it. On purpose. He’s not _that_ stupid.

Only he is, because they didn't want him. They wanted his files. To destroy all the evidence of who she really is and wrap her in a lie.  
  
He's failed her. Again.  
  
Even if she comes for him, he's lost his advantage now.  
  
The door rattles, suddenly, the pressurized system pushing air forced from the inside out.  
  
He stands back as the door crumples and she strides into his cell, dressed in a suit he's never seen before.  
  
“Hi,” she says in a rush. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”  
  
It’s quite an entrance. She hands him his prosthetic back as he slips it on and tests it, when he realizes they’re not alone.  
  
“The others?” he asks.

“Yo Yo's on it. Eden's getting us in five.”  
  
Joey pops from behind the door where he’s hovering. “Hi, sir.”  
  
“It's not _sir_ , Joey,” she reminds him.  
  
“Uh, Coulson. Agent?” he checks, with his eyebrows raised.  
  
“How about Phil?” he offers. “The door your work?”  
  
“All me,” he grins. “I’ve been practicing.”  
  
“How have you been?” Coulson asks.  Thinking about how happy he is just to see his face.  
  
“I'm married!” he says, showing him his ring hand. “Not wearing it, though. In the field.”  
  
“Congratulat-“  
  
“Guys?” Daisy interrupts, staring between them as they both face her, chastised.  “Later?”  
  
They both nod and follow her out into the center of the chamber.  
  
“Can he do it this far underground?” May asks, wearing the same blue jumpsuit he is.  No hi or anything.  He wonders how the ATCU managed to track _her_ down.  
  
“We've practiced,” Daisy says in anticipation, looking upward.  
  
“Yo Yo already got Mack,” Joey reports to Coulson. “Before they got to you.”

“Simmons is ready on the other side and Fitz has a surprise for you,” Daisy adds.

“I love portals,” Coulson winces, as one appears in front of them, climbing down the wall until they’re facing it.  “Is this going to be bumpy?”

May looks at him sideways. “Do you even need to ask?”

“Let’s go,” Daisy tells him, raising her hands to it. “I can only hold it open for so long.”

He jumps through first.

 

#

After they’ve been treated for something like the equivalent of the bends, he’s told, Fitz presents him with an upgrade to his prosthetic.

He doesn’t have to time to go over all the bells and whistles before Daisy shows up to give Coulson a tour of the place.

Just the two of them, alone, and it looks familiar to him, he thinks.  Emptier than he’s used to.

Probably Daisy finding it after all those years digging through SHIELD files. Places where you could run and hide.

He thought he had given her a home, that he could be what he thought she needed. A part of her was still hiding.

She’s different now.  It’s _all_ different.  He just wishes he could’ve done more.

“You recognize it?”

“It’s SHIELD,” he says. “Underground.”

“Not underground,” she says, pushing a button on the wall as the door slides open, revealing the desolate blue landscape with a piece of glass standing between them and the rock and sand surface.

Maveth.

“The floorplan is SHIELD’s, though,” she says, carefully watching his reaction. “It was mostly funded thanks to the efforts of a rogue ATCU Agent named Phil Coulson.  He used to be the Director of SHIELD,” she smiles, as he puts his new hand up against the glass.

“Joey and Yo Yo helped me construct it, along with some of the other Inhumans that we’ve managed to free.”

“You’ve been busy,” he says, awestruck, shaking his head. “What’s it called?”

“Haven,” she tells him, coming to stand beside him.  “Yo Yo says that’s just Heaven without the ‘e’”.

That gets a laugh out of him. “And what about you?  Do I call you the ‘Director’?”  He says, leaning against the glass, making it sound very formal.

“We don’t have Directors up here, Phil,” she replies, turning to face him.  “Or Agents.”

“Okay,” he manages to answer, and he can’t help letting his eyes rove over her face.  How he never thought he could see her even more clearly.  And yet-

It’s like her finding herself has somehow illuminated everything between them.  Connections he never realized before.

“This is supposed to happen?” he says, unsure, but finding the idea planting in him already. Taking root.

“Fate?” she asks, raising her eyebrow, as he wraps his fingers around her arm.

“Us,” he says softly, drawing her to him, as she brushes her lips against his.

She pulls him even closer, and kisses him bathed in the light of the two pale moons.

 

#

“How is it that my favorite donuts are here in space,” he says, sitting back against the headboard, biting down on one. 

He pushes away the crumbs from his mouth and looks down on his chest as they dust the sheets.

“Some things you just never let go of, Phil,” she says, not noticing as he dusts off towards the side of the bed.

“You mean, like ‘work’?” he adds, licking his bottom lip, watching her tap at the pad in her hand.

“I’m trying to run a very remote rebellion,” she chides, tilting her head at him.  “While letting you eat in my bed.”

“Ooh.  So Star Wars,” he says, in a sultry voice, leaning forward to kiss her with his sugar-dusted lips. 

“We have that up here, too,” she answers, slowly pressing her lips to his, as he moves to put the donut down and she slides the tablet away.

“Anything we’re missing?” he asks her, maneuvering himself over her, pushing away the covers, wanting to be put to more good use.

“Not anymore,” she tells him, biting her lower lip, running her fingers through his hair to ruffle it.

He starts to kiss her collarbone then moves lower, to her stomach, as he gets very still, and looks up at her with a serious expression.

“I love you. I always have.”

She looks caught between breathing and speaking, and he waits as her hand starts to move through his hair again, a content smile on her face.

“I know.”


End file.
